


Pain Feels Better

by quellthefire



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fights, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Pining, Punching, Toxic Masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quellthefire/pseuds/quellthefire
Summary: Tired of travelling, you stop for the night to make camp. You want to tell to tell him how you feel.You hate yourself for loving him.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 21





	Pain Feels Better

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for my wonderful friend Hunk, who lives for this kind of fic. Thanks for being my favorite muse and an even better friend.

The longing is excruciating.

The unspoken words and unseen looks. 

There’s a foolish attempt to show you care by helping him fix the engine on his bike, even after he gets frustrated and storms off. You keep working on it, tightening each little bolt as his cursing fades into the distance, until you’re left with silence. Nothing but silence and the soft chirp of birds in the trees. You’d prefer his tirades to this suffocating silence. You finish up the bike and put the tools back in their bag. At least you’ll be able to ride to the next campsite in the morning.

You lose track of time after that, unsure of how long he’s been gone, but it’s nothing new, nothing you haven’t been through before.

He returns eventually, a catfish in hand, his bow in the other. You hadn’t noticed him take it, but you’re not surprised. He would never leave without it, too paranoid of the alternative.

And for good reason. You both know all too well what else could be in these woods.

At night, after the sun has fallen into darkness and the cicadas take up their mantle, you lie there in your tent, two feet away under covers that do nothing to protect against the bite of the cold air. It’s better than nothing,  
But not by much...

You’re so scared to reach out, to touch his arm, or his face, or his lips, but it hurts too goddamn much not to. Instead you roll over, shove your head under the covers, and pray you'll find the strength one day to either make a move or leave him entirely. 

You know that day will never come.  
\---  
Some nights it's quiet.

Peaceful even. 

You sit in silence, watching the campfire flames burn down, refusing to glance his way, but there's a comfort in just knowing he's there. He’s been there through a lot. You’re grateful, even though you’d never tell him. Sometimes you doubt if he knows.  
\---  
Some nights he's moody, won't say a goddamn word to you and you don't know what got up his ass but you're done with it. Done with the snide comments and cruel looks. Done with his mood swings and his storming off. So fucking sick of this cycle you can’t get out of. You want to scream and throw things and hurt him the way that he hurts you. 

Instead you pull away, so in your own head that don’t notice him slip away into the woods. You don’t know if your silence is punishing him or you more. 

You don’t want to admit that it’s probably you.  
\---  
And some nights, you have it out, this close to punching him so hard in the gut that he'd fall to the ground, finally forced to shut up and listen. 

You relish the thought of blood. Knuckles beaten and raw, not even caring about the dirt and engine grease coating the wounds. You want to feel something for once. Something other than need and regret. 

God, you just want him to listen. But what would you say? What could you say? Nothing. 

Nothing feels all wrong, so instead you cock your arm back and throw the first hit. It connects just like you knew it would, and he falls to the ground. You know what’s coming next, a sharp uppercut to your stomach. 

Payback for your sins. 

It hurts, fuck does it hurt as you double over and try to catch a breath that won’t come. But this is good. This is right. This is all you deserve.

And pain feels a hell of a lot better than sadness. 

Pain feels so fucking good compared to nothing. You know you're gonna regret this in the morning, going to regret the silence when all the yelling and cursing is gone, but it just feels so good to feel something for once. So what if you find it in a well aimed punch that leaves him sputtering blood? It’s not like you haven’t been down this road before. 

And maybe this way he'll feel something for you for once too.

You're so tired of the nothing. 

Anything is preferable to that.


End file.
